He Gives Me That Look

He gives me that look from across the table that makes my heart flip around so wildly inside this chest of mine that I almost reach up to touch it.  The corners of his mouth playful with me and I can't help but let out a tiny giggle and we are smiling and laughing and life should always feel this good.  The kids are grinning from ear to ear and they love this playful banter and laughter at breakfast so much it makes them all a little goofy too.  I get up first for a refill and he follows me to the coffee pot and I can sense he is right behind me.  As I turn around, coffee cup in hand - he gently takes it out of my hand placing it on the counter, his fingers lace through mine and he asks me for this dance.  I notice we have an audience peaking at us from the other room, I am laughing out loud now and looking up at him, I dance with him right there in the kitchen, completely un done yet - jammies still on, bed head hear and coffee breath but he doesn't care.  I get the distinct impression that he sees a different "me" here in this kitchen right now than I do. And it feels so good to be loved just as I am - undone, mess of a person that I am - I guess that's "love" isn't it?  Love dances and embraces and accepts and sees what is inside.  How did this day ever come to be?  We are both pushing 40 and that seems so old and yet here in this kitchen, this morning, I feel anything but old.  I guess that is what love does for a person - it rekindles the part that makes us feel alive.  His love also brings me coffee in the morning and gets up with the kids in the night, "so I can rest", he sends me out with my friends and with my camera so that I have room for the relational, creative "me" that needs to make an appearance every now and then and then when I get home from all of that creative girl-friend time he tenderly takes my feet up on his lap, rubs them as I go on ad on about who I saw, what we did, which aperture setting I used or tried and I am sure he does not know half of what I am talking about - but this man knows "me".  I guess that's what love does - it serves beyond what is convenient or interesting to itself.  And he does a million other really sweet things to demonstrate his love for me.  How does one ever "love" back enough when you are loved and taken care of so well?  I have absolutely no idea what the equivalent is in his man's world - but I am trying hard to learn.  Trying hard to figure out how to cheer on his favorite football team and how to get into March madness or super bowl season in a way that is a blessing and not annoying.  I am not exactly sure how to love him but every day is a new day to try and express it in his language.  I guess that's what love does, doesn't it?  It tries and intends to bless.  Now just to bring some "real" to this picture I am painting, I have no grandiose ideas that my marriage or my husband or myself have this love/marriage thing all figured out.  In fact, not even close!  We struggle ad fight and I subconsciously want control and yet have none.  He forgets to hang up his bath towel and around we go again.  But love is a choice that we make day in and day out.  The "choice" part is what makes the little things actually big things, big deposits that ground us and keep us dancing in the kitchen in our jammies - coffee breath and all.  I am so thankful for another year and another fresh start to love this man I call my husband and my best friend.